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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
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“You smell amazing,” I said honestly. Her aroma was earth and sweet and musk. A dangerous fragrance. I forced myself from her belly. Stood up again, towering. “Let’s get today bathed off of you,”, taking her hand and leading her naked into the steamy bathroom.
The hot bath misted the corner windows of the bathroom. She stepped into the deep tub into which I had poured a mixture of essential oils. It was a heavy, heady scent, a confusing one that admirers would say smelled like cinnamon… Others said it smelled of jasmine and still others said it smelled of vanilla sugar cookies. Her scent would attract the attention of men, the envy of women. She loved its smell on her. It suited her: complex, heavy, confusing, irresistible. It fit that I picked it out for her. She settled into the silky warm jasmine water. Kneeling beside the tub, I her arm and gently washed it with water and sponge, squeezing to allow the water to trickle over her skin. Washing her arms, her neck, her throat, her collarbone, her chest, breasts, belly, legs, each toe, kissing them as I finished. I washed her mons last, my arm disappearing into the warm water to reach her. She was wet and warm with more than water.
Finished with washing her, I whispered, “Now I want to clean you completely.” She looked at me, a question in her eyes. Reaching into the bathroom drawer I took out shaving foam and a razor. “I want you completely clean and bare for me. Allow me?” I asked.
Wordlessly, she raised and lowered her head twice, granting permission. She raised herself from the water. I lifted one foot and anchored it on the side of the bath, which completely exposed her to me. Slowly spread the foam over her neatly trimmed hair and over her puffy lips, which she kept bare. I was careful not to get the foam in the folds of her silky delicate skin. The blade scraped through the foam as I made strokes, washing the head in the warm water after each stoke. As I got close to the hooded clitoris, to her silken lips, my free hand touched her. My fingertips covered the sweet pink skin, providing shelter from the razor. She swooned and grabbed the back of my head for support. She flooded with excitement at this intimate, wordless act pampering, primping and preparing her. Short little strokes rid any stubble from her pubis, my fingers gently holding the little lips, the tender lips to the side they way he would do when shaving around the corners of my mouth. I wiped away the excess foam and then splashed warm water on her newly-shaven slit. I leaned forward and kissed her Mound of Venus. “Beautiful,” I mouthed into her flesh. She gripped hard on my head and ground into me. I pulled away, that infuriating and intoxicating twinkle again in my eye.
“Not yet, darl,” I smiled up at her. “Soon.”
Splashing oil into my palm and smoothed it over her wet slit and mons. I splashed more into my palm and oiled her flesh completely from top to bottom. My hands wiping the water from her as I spread the oil so that her skin glistened. The cream of her skin shimmered with the addition of a small sheen of oil. Her own oils ran down her thigh from his confident touch, my hands always warm, firm but gentle. As I finished and slapped her butt to let her know she was done. She stepped from the bath and he dried her feet with a towel. The rest of her had air dried as I shaved her and oiled her.
“You can get ready now, fresh makeup and hair,” I said, giving her a beautiful pearl comb to hold up her hair. “Wear it up for me, please.”
As she sat at the her dressing table nude, she looked in the large lighted mirror and saw me stripping my clothes off and stepping into the shower. I left the glass door open purposefully and bathed in the warm streams. She got up to find lingerie to wear beneath the bruise-colored dress. She went to her dresser to find a good purple set, but I blocked the way. He held the dress in one hand, a pair of painfully high stiletto heels, a garter and stockings in the other.
“This is all you wear tonight,” I said.
She looked up at me and knew I meant it. I adjusted the garter to her waist, the straps curving over the roundness of her hips. I then told her to lift her arms. She raised her arms for me to slide the dress over her head. Her nipples stiffened with the cool touch of the silk. Both knew her nipples would be hard all night. I bent down to her to slide her feet into the stockings one at a time and cleave them to the garters. The stockings were not fishnet so much as dozens of diamonds of black thread, a contrast of geometry to the natural curves of her flesh. I put her feet into the stilettos. The red gave such a contrast to the dark regal color of the dress. Gold buckles were reminiscent of some of the buckles I had used on her. Reminiscent of the bonds.
I stood up and took her into my chest without a word. The low growl in my throat said it all for her, a song she loved to hear. I slid a small box out of his jacket pocket. She knew instinctively the kind of box and opened it to find a solid gold choker with a lock on the back. The lock resembled a padlock. She turned for me to put it on her. Standing behind her, I clamped the choker into place. It was perfectly snug. I locked the tiny padlock and my hand went to rest on her throat, to pull her back into me. My hand often searched for the delicate hollows of her throat, her collarbone. Softly I would feel for her pulse and often find it racing. As it was now.
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